A Few Inquires
by TimeyWimeyDetectiveinNightVale
Summary: It's no harm done to anything if you only contemplate a few different visions left inside your head. But it makes it rather difficult if you're being confronted with them by the one you're having the visions about. Especially if it's your wife. And especially if your wife is River Song. Set after TWoRS.


A/N: Okay, I'm pretty sure I'm tiptoeing out of the line here, but I'm really not sure. I don't _think _it exactly counts, since there's nothing too explicit. I just hope this doesn't end up sucking. I banged it out fairly quickly, because I've been obsessing over this OTP so much it's as if I need them to breath.

Just so you know, any fantasies/thoughts are italicized. In case there was any confusion.

* * *

_He brushed his lips over hers, not quite letting them touch. His fingers ghosted down her sides until he could trace small circles below her waist, finally giving her a deep, sensual kiss. His tongue overlapped hers and worked almost languidly, eliciting sighs and moans. _

_"Doctor. . ." River's breath hitched when he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it. His hips pressed against hers, creating a subtle grinding motion. _

_"Oh, River," he murmured against her ear, kissing and nipping the lobe. "You are so beautiful, you know." His lips caressed down her neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. "Gorgeous. . ." His hands traveled along her skin so he could tease tender flesh. She gasped, gripping his dark hair. ". . . and positively perfect." _

* * *

"What was that, dear?"

The Doctor blinks. Her voice drops him roughly on his backside into reality. It seems almost rude, really.

"Sorry, yeah, what?" he says, looking up as he folds his hands in his lap. Tenuously, of course.

"What's so perfect, then?" River quirks an eyebrow at him. He really doesn't like it when she acts as if she knows exactly what he's thinking. He wonders briefly if his wife is a mind-reader. It's a truly frightening concept, so he quickly dismisses it. In any case, he draws his legs closer together, swallowing thickly. He spots a very interesting little loose thread hanging from the captain's chair he's positioned upon. He wish he wouldn't accidentally say these things aloud.

The Doctor, being a Time Lord and therefore a naturally curious sort of person, constantly prods, questions, and demands. He delights in possessing yet another (even if it's just a scrap) piece of knowledge to add to his mental rolodex, the moment the opportunity presents itself. And when he gets no answers to said questions, he may sometimes fantasise about what the answers could be. It's certainly not as satisfying, but at least he may let piqued curiosity wander.

Which is just the thing with River. He'd been watching her while she was working on the TARDIS console, repairing a few controls. He was watching the way her fingers danced over the console, how a few stubborn curls fell over her face and graze fluttering lashes, how her simple midnight-blue dress accented soft-looking curves. Even if she wasn't doing anything much that other people might find interesting, the Doctor feels as though he could watch her for ours without looking away. She was mesmerizing, and he was sure she wasn't doing it on purpose this time. She was still focused and seemed to have not noticed his gazing. Which was reliving.

His queries had been something of the 'I Wonder If' category.

_I wonder if all your skin is as soft as your hands, River. I wonder if I could kiss you right now and make you forget about everything except for me- no out-of-order timelines, no hurtful backstories, no regrets or 'I'm-sorry-and-it's-my-fault's. Just me. I wonder if I could say those three little words I want to tell you right now and I won't stumble over everything like I always do. _

The Doctor's been fantasizing different answers about River Song for far longer than he dare admit; envisioning scenarios that wake him abruptly in the middle of the night, leaving him soaked in sweat and gasping for breath. Three nights ago had been particularly vivid- and made up mostly about what he'd been thinking of earlier.

"Sweetie." He almost jumps out of his chair when fingers snap near his ear. He looks up again to meet River's eyes. He shouldn't feel guilty, right? Right. It snaps him out of his musings anyway.

"Are you growing deaf with old age? Actually, I wouldn't be surprised." She's smirking at him. Again. It's one of those things she does that he sort of hates but really, really likes.

"No, of course not. That's silly. I was just- I was thinking about some perfect things. Nice and wonderful things- like, well, um, let's see. . . " The Doctor thinks frantically. "There's- there's hats, Jammie Dodgers, bow ties, and cakes, and- bananas. And ice cream. And lots of other things. So, um, well, you've just got to look at things that way. If they're perfect to _you_, then, there you. . . have it." The Doctor's a little buzzing bee- buzz, buzz, buzz. Just humming and floating along on his merry way. He's an innocent little honey bee.

"So, you've been staring at me for, oh, ten minutes now," says River (well, okay, maybe he hasn't been too good at the whole tenuous thing- damn it- ), "because you've been thinking about perfect hats, bow ties, and cakes." She looks apprehensive and a little bit naughty, and the little innocent buzzing bee is now much more of an awkward, uncomfortable Time Lord who can't help but think his trousers aren't fitting exactly the way they should.

"Ah. . . yes, exactly. That's- that's precisely it, River. I was thinking about things like cakes. . . because. . . you remind me of cakes. They're sweet, and lots of people like them, and- um, they're plump and soft- "

"So you're saying I'm fat." River folds her arms across her chest, fixing him with a stern look.

A small sense of panic shot up in the Doctor's stomach as he mentally cursed himself. "No! No, really, I didn't- I- I only meant that you're- you're sort of- a bit squishy in some places- No! Wait, that's not it!" He feels himself pale slightly as her brow arches higher, dangerously so. "You're- you're just- you're curvy-ish- No, wait- bloody hell!" He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth with frustration at his own stupidly idiotic mouth, rubbing his hands over his face. He's so rubbish at this. Actually, no, more like complete shit. "River, just- could you maybe forget all that? Please? I really didn't mean- "

He hears a soft giggle, making him glance back up and peer through his fingers.

Oh, River Song is _unkind _to him.

"River, you are a bad, bad girl," the Doctor admonishes her, rising from the chair to drop a kiss on her nose. River laughs again- it's a mixture of tinkling snowbells and what angel wings probably sound like when they take off. At least he thinks so. He's never really met any. . . actually _nice _angels.

"But you like it, don't you?" she says, fingers beginning to play with his bow tie. She doesn't look at him, though it feels as if she's watching him anyway. It's barely any contact, not even skin-on-skin, but it has his hearts fluttering faster, at any rate.

"I'm not really sure. . . it depends, I suppose."

_He lets her undo his bow tie, and an unspoken agreement passes between their eyes. He knits one hand through her curls and rests the other on her lower back as her arms wrap around his neck so he can pull her close for the kiss he's so desired. _

"I'd like to know what that is. Could be useful, you know," she tells him. The Doctor follows River's gentle movements with his eyes; while she slowly runs a finger down the line of buttons on his shirt. He can't remember if he's breathing normally, and he _knows _he's not when she brushes a hand across his thigh and just misses the space between his legs.

_She tugs his shirttail from his trousers and unclips his braces, pausing in her motions to moan softly with the mothlike kisses he's pressing along her neck. He nudges a strap of her dress off her shoulder before he nips her collarbone and sucks on it lightly, drinking in her groan of pleasure. _

"Well. . . " The Doctor draws the sentence out, feeling his throat grow a fraction more dry. because River's push her fingers into the waistband of his trousers, touching nothing and everything at once. She's playing with him behind those lovely hazel eyes of hers, which makes his words stick like glue upon his tongue. He's able to finally say, "I only like it under- under certain circumstances. Sometimes I don't- erm, find it- very much appropriate- "

"Rule One, I can tell, my love," murmurs Rivers, and he's sure it must be illegal somewhere to put that much sexual innuendo within a single sentence. He utters another mental Gallifreyan curse.

_She makes short work of his shirt buttons, allowing him to pull her dress zipper down. He feels as if he's dangerously low on air and River's lips are the only form of oxygen. Her back is pressed against the console, her hands tugging desperately at his hair. Fire is spreading rapidly below his stomach, his mind growing clouded and dizzy with lust. _

"Maybe you're flattering yourself, Dr. Song." The Doctor almost surprises himself with the near-growl in his tone.

"Perhaps. . . " River glances at him lips for a moment before her gaze drifts back up to his eyes. They can't get much closer to each other, but he firmly believes they need to or he's going to bloody burst into piece all over the console room and won't that just be a dreadful mess. ". . . but then again, you make that up for both of us."

"Oh, stop it," he tells her, using gentle fingers to tuck those bits of unruly hair behind her ear. He's not entirely sure how wise it will be to have those fingers against bare skin, because he doesn't know if he'll be able to stop them.

She smiles (and he _loves_ that), and brushes her lips over his, and he's more than ready to eagerly accept them.

And suddenly they're jerked apart as the TARDIS gives a dreadful shudder. The Doctor is thrown off his feet and he bangs painfully against the floor. River emits a shriek from somewhere above him.

"What in _hell_- " Feeling dazed, the former pulls himself up with the help of the control panel's edging. River's taken hold of console's command screen, squinting at it.

"We must've flown into some sort of particalized rock. We drifted off the course of the vortex," she reports. "I don't think the outside's going to be damaged."

"How'd we get off-course? That doesn't just happen." The Doctor feels dazed, pained, and extremely disappointed.

"Override. Apparently, the wrong wires were crossed a fair few minutes earlier by the means of offhanded work and an irresponsible sonic screwdriver." River shot him a meaningful look.

"Oh, so it's my fault?" He scowls back, somehow miffed at her- and the TARDIS as well. "_I _wasn't the one tinkering earlier and I also don't tinker, I mend and fix up and make it even better, and I _always _know what I'm doing with the TARDIS because she's _my_ TARDIS and you don't appreciate- "

River takes his face in her hands and silences him with a kiss. The Doctor's hearts immediately begin their fluttery, too-fast dance inside his chest once more, though lasting all of three seconds when she breaks away. He almost whimpers.

"Let me fix this, honey, and let me do it my way," she says as she passes him to climb down the steps so she can reach the inner mechanisms.

But only after she breathes into his ear, "Later," and bestows one last kiss on his neck.

And, with a wink tossed over her shoulder, River leaves the Doctor to go back to his own debating and questioning once more, though now he attempts to fight a grin.


End file.
